


Sacrifice

by pieandangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieandangels/pseuds/pieandangels





	Sacrifice

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice was harsh against the wind. He ran to his brother’s body, kneeling, searching his face for any sign of life. Sam was still, cold, staring up at the cloudy sky without seeing.  
“He’s dead, Dean,” Cas said quietly. Dean was yelling, nonsensical strings of curse words tumbling from his lips. He cradled his little brother against his chest, rocking back and forth. His crazed eyes never left Sam’s lifeless face.   
“Fix him,” Dean said.  
“There’s nothing I can do. I am sorry.” And he was. Whatever he had understood of sorrow before was nothing to this. Nothing to watching Sam collapse mid-spell, his knees buckling under the strain of the trials, eyes darkening. The Gates of Hell glowed pale red, and Castiel knew it was only a matter of minutes before demons came, surging forth in a wave of hate and anger, everything Dean, Sam, and Cas had worked so hard to destroy.  
“Fix him!” The words ripped from Dean’s throat while tears pricked in his wild eyes. Cas felt helpless, shame burrowing into his stomach, taking root and spreading through his bloodstream. He had never felt so shattered, so depraved. It was worse than being erased by Naomi, because Castiel felt every minute of this, his own private Hell. He had screwed it all up, and this time it was, unequivocally, his fault. If only he had questioned Metatron, questioned anything rather than blindly following orders, they might’ve had a chance. But now Heaven was closed, Cas was powerless, and Sam was dead.  
Cas took a step forward, reaching out to touch Dean’s shoulder. His vision was blurry and he realized with a jolt that he was crying. He sought solace in the hunter’s warmth, but Dean shied away, refusing to meet Cas’s gaze. A low rumble came from within the Gates, and Cas shivered.  
“Dean, please. I need you to fight with me. I can’t do this alone.”  
Finally, Dean looked up. Cas met his eyes and immediately regretted it; he had never seen such unadulterated loathing.  
“Months, Cas. I’ve been doing this alone for months while Sam was wasting away. I begged you to stay, but you ran. You ran. So let those sons of bitches come. I don’t care anymore.”  
“Dean – ” But Cas had nothing to say. Dean was right, after all. It was idiotic of Cas to think Dean could forgive him again. Absurd. After several long seconds, Cas spoke: “I can’t watch you die.”  
“Then close your eyes.”  
They came then, spirits and demons, swirls of black smoke materializing with wicked grins. Cas stepped forward, raised the demon knife, but the creatures could sense Dean’s hopelessness. They pushed Castiel aside as if he were a child – and in so many ways, he was nothing more than that. They closed in on Dean, and Castiel wanted to fight. He wanted to raise his knife and destroy these creatures that would dare hurt his hunter, the sacred man he had saved from hell so many years ago, but he lacked the energy. It had been too long a road, too tiresome, draining the three boys of everything. Castiel could not continue, not when Dean had given up. He heard the horrifying, distinct sound of flesh ripping, and he cringed, but his will was broken. He could not win without Dean. He couldn’t find a reason without Dean.  
There were no screams of pain as Dean Winchester died. No yelling, no begging. It was over in a flash, and after the demons finished their work, they scattered, off to wreak havoc on a world no longer protected by the grace of Heaven. Castiel took a step back, afraid to stand too close to the corpses of the brothers he had given himself for time and time again. As Dean took his last breath, Cas could’ve sworn he heard a muffled, indistinct sigh of relief.  
The knife slipped from his hands and a sickening, hollow poison started to fill him. It crept through his body, just beneath the skin, permeating every inch of him. It was never supposed to end like this. This was Sam and Dean Winchester. It didn’t matter how many times they were put in peril, how many times they died. They were unbreakable. But Heaven was gone now. Honesty, purity, truth and goodness had ceased to exist. There was no coming back from the grave this time.   
Castiel was alone.  
“Hello, Cas.” The fallen angel paled at the familiar voice. He turned to look at Crowley, staring deep into the blood red eyes.  
“Don’t call me that,” Cas said.  
“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m not ‘cured’ anymore? Come on, manners, Cas.”  
“Don’t call me that,” Cas repeated, quiet voice full of gravel and despair.  
“My, my, someone’s a little grumpy today,” Crowley said.  
Cas felt his eyes burn. “Why don’t you just kill me?”  
Crowley laughed. “In due time, little prince. But first, tell me, when did you come to the dark side?”  
Cas dropped his eyes to his shoes. “What are you talking about?” he asked flatly.  
“Closing Heaven, letting Dean die, it all seems very…well…me.”  
“I am nothing like you,” Cas spat.  
“Ah, well, that’s what your precious Dean liked to think about dear old John, wasn’t it? But they were the same in the end, sloppy alcoholics who got off on the rush of murder. And then you fluttered into his life, didn’t you, and he had a nice, neat little reason to keep fighting besides that moose of his. Until, of course, you betrayed him.” Crowley took a step forward, a smile spreading across his face.  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“Oh, don’t I? You were dirt to him. How could he care about you, after what you did? He always put little Sammy first. You see how quickly he gave up when he realized his brother was dead. He never wanted to be anything more than a bloody martyr.”  
“No. Dean is a good man. He wants to save the world.”  
“Watch your tenses there, Castiel. He doesn’t want anything now; he’s dead.”  
Castiel lunged. He had no plan of attack and the demon knife lay next to Dean’s corpse, but his fingers closed around Crowley’s neck, pressing tightly against his windpipe. Crowley flicked a lazy hand and Castiel was knocked to the ground. A shiny black loafer collided with his mouth.  
“You petulant child. You seem to have forgotten something.”  
Cas spit blood onto the dirt and glared up at the King of Hell.  
“What?” he growled.  
Crowley crouched, his emotionless eyes level with Castiel. He lifted a hand and ran his forefinger along Castiel’s jaw, smiling. “I win.”  
He twisted his wrist and Castiel’s neck snapped. With no connection to Heaven, no strength to find a new vessel, Castiel relaxed into Death’s thin arms, relieved that he would not have to spend another aching, endless moment on Earth without the comfort of Dean’s green eyes.


End file.
